JJBJ, Prologue
Category:JoJo's Bizzare Justice Category:PSQuasarCategory:JoJo's Bizzare Justice Category:PSQuasarCategory:JoJo's Bizzare Justice Category:PSQuasarCategory:JoJo's Bizzare Justice Category:PSQuasarCategory:JoJo's Bizzare Justice Category:PSQuasarCategory:JoJo's Bizzare Justice Category:PSQuasarCategory:JoJo's Bizzare Justice Category:PSQuasarCategory:JoJo's Bizzare Justice Category:PSQuasar New York City, Late February, 1938 The bridge exploded in a spectacular dance of golden light. At the source, a large, muscular man was there, crying. Two things were wrong with this picture. Firstly, the elephant in the room, what was that explosion? Secondly, how was that man still alive despite being next to the source? These were the thoughts that a certain unlucky teen was thinking as he ran away from the source, like any sensible human. He was on his way home from his part-time job at a general store a few blocks away, and he planned on making himself a sandwich and listening to the radio upon arriving home. Unfortunately, his plans were stopped short by this well-timed explosion. Yes, he still was heading home, and he was running instead of his usual walking pace. However, something stopped him along the way. "Heh... I'm lucky that trick worked..." The teen heard a raspy voice call from the ally up ahead. The voice was slick with youth, yet he could still sense the tension on old age on that same voice. 'That certainly isn't something that you'd say in a situation like this' was his first thought. Next, he wondered why that voice sounded from an ally of all places. Most importantly, though, was what is the trick that voice is mentioning? Was that trick, perhaps that golden explosion? The teen then looked down at the pavement. Cigarette butts, smudges of ash, candy wrappers, shreds of newspapers gave the sidewalk its personality. However, something looked sorely out of of place; it was like somebody putting makeup on had just splashed some milk on their face. It was a bloodstain. The teen, being a teen, was intrigued by this bloodstain. He thoroughly enjoyed the cheesy detective stories posted in the newspaper every day. As he crept forward, his mind shoved the golden explosion into the back of his mind and focused solely on the bloodstain. Maybe he'll save a life... maybe he'll become one of the detectives he cherishes so much... The bloodstain continually increased in magnitude as he neared the ally. Little specks turned to spatters which turned to puddles. Additionally, he started to hear a brittle, erratic chain of breaths. As he reached the corner of the street that would turn branch into the ally, he stopped abruptly. Wispy tendrils of red, gold, and white sneaked around the corner of the ally, as if the ally itself were slowly exhaling them out. They twirled around the teen before dissipating. This is it. This is where it begins. This is where hell begins. The teen takes a deep breath and turns around the corner. So many things there. So many things wrong. This isn't right. This shouldn't be happening. Why is this happening? How can this happen? A man lay next to a pile of trash, gasping for breath as if each one were his last. This is wrong. That man should be dead. That's what is wrong. That's what isn't right. That's what shouldn't happen. This man should be dead. His body was riddled with large holes, each one leaking a beam of the same golden light from that explosion and billowing clouds of bloody steam. Part of his head was missing; it looked as if it were messily torn off. He lay in his own pool of blood, which continued to expand the more he breathed. No human could survive this. Even the mafia wouldn't do something like this. The teen was torn. Should he help the man, or should he run and forget this aberration of nature. As he was about to run, the man said something: "Look into my eyes." The teen looked into the man's eyes and felt a strange sense of both comfort and fear wash over him at the same time. This was too wrong. The teen clamped his eyes shut and backstepped over the ally, nearly tripping over himself. Then, making sure to avert his eyes from any angle even close to looking at the ally, he ran as fast as he could, arms flailing and legs making impossibly long strides. A blink and a quick gulp of air resulted in him standing in front of the ally once again The damn ally. How is this happening? Is this a trick too? "I guess I can't help it..." The teen said audibly. The words hung in the air, waiting for a reason it can't be helped, like the opposite of an empty threat. He stepped into the ally. There was no avoiding this now. "Help me, boy..." The man said, lifting his arm. At a closer look, the man was quite muscular and handsome; despite missing a part of it, his face still had an alluring quality to it. The teen stared into the man's bright red eyes, the pupils looking like they were from hell itself. The teen was at a loss for words. This hobo-posed demon was bleeding light and steam while asking him for help. How could he possibly help? "I, Straizo, sacrificed my humanity for this filthy, filthy end... I refuse to die here. Lend me your blood." The man shifted as he spat out those words as if they were flammable, waiting to be lighted with passion. But blood... what did he mean by blood? Straizo forced himself forward and started crawling limply towards the teen, baring his fangs. However, he was stopped short of biting the poor teen's leg when he started coughing violently, his body racking as it spewed a glowing, golden liquid from every orifice. The teen recoiled, the waves of terror washing over him, forcing him to tremble violently. He tried to speak, even if he didn't know what he would say, he tried. Regardless, the words just choked up at his throat, manifesting themselves as groans. Straizo's shaking body splattered gore onto the teen. As Straizo continued coughing, a mask fell out from the folds of his rags, hitting the cold, bloody stone with a clatter. "The apex mask..." Straizo said, trying to reach for the mask and place it back inside of his clothes. The teen, however, instinctively picked up the mask before the man could. That mask was strange. It exuded an aura so malicious that he could feel his mind cloud with thoughts of blood and death. He slowly, instinctively brought the mask up to his face. "No! Don't wear it!" The teen stopped. His expression of fear had unconsciously been replaced by an evil smirk, a product of the mask's aura. The mask itself was made of stone, yet it was bejeweled with a variety of gems, both large and small. Everytime it shifted towards his blood-covered shirt, it glittered wildly in the mix of moonlight and golden light. Straizo begged, his body starting to glow a little. "Give me your blood! PLEASE! I may have survived that trick, but I need blood to clear myself of the remaining hamon." However, the mask's call was too great. The teen chuckled and wore the mask. Immediately, he arched back, his hands splayed as every single human cell in his body was destroyed and reconstructed as a vampire's. The same red tendrils that crept on the ally's floor formed a misty haze around the teen. The transformation was complete. The mask fell to the ground with a muffled clattered. From the red mist emerged a new being, a new vampire... an apex vampire. The action wasn't over, however. Straizo still lay on the ground, his body unable to take it anymore. "HOW COULD YO-" Straizo's last words were cut off by his body exploding. The ally filled with that same golden energy as what was on the bridge. Destroying Straizo wholly and enveloping the newly converted vampire too. This golden energy, this ripple... The energy ripped and tore at nearly every cell in the teen's body, the cells that had just been reconstructed to be a vampire's. He could feel his very essence slip away as his head was destroyed. However, he was still conscious. How? The ally, lit up in the flames of ripple, showed no signs of life... No signs of sentient life. Amid the golden fury, a single heart lay, still beating desperately...